


Broken Promises

by PeacefulNights



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Feels, Angst and Tragedy, Character Death, Depression, Gen, Heavy Angst, Mental Anguish, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Mental Institutions, Sam Winchester Whump, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-23 23:11:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14943122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeacefulNights/pseuds/PeacefulNights
Summary: How could Sam go on without his brother by his side?





	Broken Promises

**Author's Note:**

> -Modern!AU  
> -Mary still died in a house fire. John is nice and has settled with Sam and Dean. No monsters.  
> -I’m not actually sure if anyone has written anything like this. This idea just suddenly hits me while I was sitting on the couch and staring out the window watching birds.  
> -Italics is narration up to the linebreak. Sam's P.O.V.

_What are you supposed to do when your brother, your hero, leaves you?_

 

A thirteen-year-old Sam Winchester frowned from his seat on the couch as he watched his father and brother pack their hunting gear. He felt uneasy about them leaving on a hunting trip all weekend. Sam had this horrible feeling in his stomach - a feeling that something terribly wrong was going to happen, something that was going to change his life forever.

 

_Do people expect you to mourn for a couple of weeks? Months?_

 

Dean rolled up his jeans and shoved them into his duffel bag before glancing over at his baby brother. Seeing his frown, the eldest brother gave a soft smile and made his way over. “Hey,” he addressed softly, crouching down to look his brother in the eye. “What’s wrong, Sammy? You’re not worried about being stuck with Missouri for a weekend are you?” He lightly punches Sam’s arm in hopes to try and cheer him up. “What? Afraid to get cooties by being stuck with a girl?”

 

_Are they thinking that you’ll get over it?_

 

Sam wrinkled his nose at his brother’s comment. “Dean,” he argued. “I’m thirteen! I don’t believe in cooties anymore!”

 

Chuckling, Dean ruffled his brother’s hair. “Whatever you say, little brother.” Sam childishly stuck his tongue out at his brother - only for the gesture to be returned. John watched with a fond smile before packing away the rest of his clothes. He picked up his and Dean’s duffel bags and placed them by the door before turning and making his way to his boys.

 

_That you’ll forget in time?_

 

John crouched beside the brothers. “C’mon kiddo,” he nudged Sam’s shoulder affectionately. “Tell your old man what’s wrong.”

 

The young teen looked down at the ground, his feet swinging under him, too short to touch the ground. “Nothing,” he mumbled, shrugging. “I just want you guys to stay safe. That’s all.”

 

_Do they not understand what he meant to you?_

 

Dean gave his little brother a light smile and snaked his arm across his shoulders. “Sammy,” he assured. “It’s not like this is our first time! We know what we’re doing. Besides, we’ve come back after every trip. What makes this hunt so different?”

 

Sam didn’t know what to tell them, unable to fully understand the feeling himself. “I don’t know,” he sighed. “Just a bad feeling I guess.”

 

_That he was the person who was always there?_

 

“Well,” John started, lightly slapping his youngest on the back. “You have nothing to worry about, son. We’ll be back before you know it!”

 

“Yeah, Sammy,” Dean assured, a smile gracing his handsome features. “Sunday night, just listen for the sound of the Impala!  Dad and I will come in, cook us up some grub and continue life as normal!”

 

_Who never left your side?_

 

Sam knew they were just trying to ease his mind, but the feeling just wouldn’t go away.

 

The sound of a car door being shut from outside made the boys look towards the door. John gave Sam one last smile and ruffled his hair. He stood and went to grab their bags. Dean went to follow, but Sam quickly grabbed his hand in order to stop him.

 

_Who stood up for you and made sure you always came first?_

 

Dean’s eyes widened as he looked at their entangled hands but then moved up to the flushed face of his younger brother. He almost melted on the spot at the sight of those puppy dog eyes staring back at him.

 

“Please, Dean.” his brother’s voice was barely a whisper. “Promise me you’ll be careful. Promise me you’ll come back.”

 

Scooping Sam up into his arms, Dean smiled as he wedged his head into his brother’s neck, his brother returning the gesture. “I promise, Sammy,” he whispered, his arms wrapped securely around Sam’s smaller frame. “I love you. You know that, right Sammy?”

 

He felt Sam nod against his shoulder. “I love you, too, Dean.”

 

_He promised me he’d come back that day. It was the first time he didn’t keep his word._

 

* * *

 

_“Sam?”_

 

The voice was distant. He barely heard it.

 

_“Sam? It’s me. It’s Jess.”_

 

Sam’s head jerked at the name. He ripped his gaze from the blank, white wall in front of him and turned towards Nurse Moore, or as she let him call her, Jess. He smiled warmly at her and she returned it as she laid her hands on his.

 

“How are you today, Sam?” She asked the question quietly, not wanting to startle him and to make sure he understood that she meant no harm. He had been in this mental institution since he was eighteen. That was five years ago. When she first arrived, Sam instantly opened up to her. Since then, they became good friends and Jessica would always tell Sam about her day - but only if he would tell her about his.

 

The Winchester nodded his head excitedly, a big grin spreading across his handsome face. “It was great Jess! Dean and I had lots of fun!”

 

Jess internally sighed at the news of his newest adventure - but she kept her smile taking her hands away from his and putting a fist under her chin to hold her head up, her other hand lying lazily across her legs. “Oh?” she asked somewhat teasingly. “What did you boys do now?”

 

His smile only seemed to grow - if that was even possible. He quickly maneuvered himself on his bed so he could face Jessica, slightly tugging on his white clothes to make them straighten out. “Dean got bored on our way to a hunt so he started this prank war between us!”

 

Jessica raised an eyebrow. “A prank war, huh?”  She laughed softly. “Who won?”

 

He shrugged and picked at his white sweats. “It was kind of a tie. We both did some pretty great pranks but we settled it with a truce.” He smiled fondly as he thought about it. “He started it when he put a plastic spoon in my mouth when I was sleeping. He also put itching powder in my pants.” He scrunched his nose and shifted uncomfortably as if he could still feel the itch.  “I got back at him, though. I glued his bottle of beer to his hand at this diner and I also turned the Impala’s radio onto polka and turned the volume all the way up so when he turned the car on, he was in for a surprise.” He laughed at his story, looking towards the wall behind Jess in thought.

 

The nurse moved her head back into his view so she could get his attention. “What were you guys hunting? Was it a werewolf? Another ghost?”

 

Sam scrunched up his nose in annoyance. “No,” he affirmed. “These idiots in Texas thought they were real ghost hunters. They created this Tulpa. He was a tough one to beat. Dean ended up burning the whole house down!”

 

Jess rose her eyebrows in feigned amusement - but truly, she was worried. The stories just kept coming and he wasn’t getting better. Just a couple of months ago he was screaming about how she was killed in a fire. It took her forever to calm him down. She tried to convince him that she was still alive but even now he thought she was just a figment of his imagination - that he was in denial of her death.

 

“Miss Moore.”

 

Though the voice was quiet, it still seemed to echo in the small room. Jessica jerked towards the door to see Nurse Masters peering through the cracked door. Sam jerked his head towards the door as well and his eyes widened. He quickly turned around to the opposite side of the bed and stared quietly at the blank wall.

 

Jessica sighed at the sight and turned towards Meg, standing awkwardly at the door, her long black hair falling over her eyes. “What is it, Meg?” She questioned, standing up slowly and making her way out the door. She shut the door quietly, glancing through the window to see the tall, quiet figure still lost in thought.

 

“It’s John Winchester, Jess,” Meg admitted nodding her head to the reception desk to see an old, worn figure slumped in his waiting chair. “He’s come to check on Sam.” She looked at Jess with sympathy. “He wanted you to tell him about his son’s …” She trailed off, not wanting to say the word needed to describe the man in his room. “Condition,” she settled. “He wants to know if anything has changed since his last visit.

 

The nurse sighed, nodding her head in acknowledgment before giving Sam one more glance and making her way to Mr. Winchester. At the sight of her advancing form, John’s eyes widened and he stood up, trying to straighten his flannel clothing to seem more appropriate.

 

Jess held out her hand to him, a welcoming smile appearing on her beautiful features. “Hi, John,” she welcomed as he took her hand. “It’s good to see you back so soon for another visit!”

 

John chuckled lightly, a smile trying to form on his lips - but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yes, well,” he cleared his throat and moved his gaze away from the woman in front of him. “He is my son, Jessica. I had a day off and I had nothing better to do. I just thought I would check up on him again before I went and paid respects to -” he chokes up and clears his throat again, trying his best to keep his tears at bay. “Before I go and visit Dean.”

 

Jessica’s warm smile instantly turned sympathetic as she glanced down at the bouquet with a small array of flowers. The bouquet held sunflowers, blue hydrangeas, and gladiolus, as well as white carnations. It wasn’t the prettiest bouquet ever made, but Jess knew the flowers were being used for meaning and not beauty.

 

The older man followed her gaze and rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. “I know they’re not exactly flowers that match, but,” He looks back towards her. “They hold meaning.”

 

Smiling, Jess put a hand on John’s arm for comfort. “I understand, John. Losing your son must have been very difficult. And then having your other son having to leave as well,” they both turned to look down the hall at the closed door. “It’s enough to make any parent go insane. You’re doing your best. I’m sure those flowers would look absolutely beautiful on Dean’s grave. I only wish I got to meet him.”

 

He smiled sadly. “Hmm. I could have seen you two being friends. He liked to tease and pull pranks. He was a big goofball.” John seemed to get lost in thought as he looked outside a window. “He wanted to be mechanic. He loved cars. Always had a dream of settling down with a nice girl, having kids,” he chuckled lightly. “He adored kids. He tried to act tough and manly but in truth, he would do anything to be around a kid. That’s one of the reasons why he and Sam were so close …” John trailed off and Jessica didn’t pressure him into telling more. She waited as he took a deep breath to calm himself and clear his throat. “Anyways, I’m getting off track. Has my … has his condition change?”

 

His hopeful expression turned downcast as she reluctantly shook her head. “I’m afraid it’s not approving. But it’s not worsening either. His condition hasn’t changed any in the past three years.”

 

“So he’s still coming up with these stories?”

 

“Yes,” she admitted. “Just before you arrived he was telling me a story of him and Dean having a prank war. They were also hunting some sort of monster again. A Tulpa I think. Whatever that is.”

 

“A Tulpa,” he ran a hand down his face as he thought. “Yeah, they’re, like, these monsters created by thought forms. Have enough people believe in something added with the right symbol and the creature would come to life.” He huffed a small laugh, staring at Sam’s door down the hall. “I never knew he paid attention to those tales I told him and his brother. He always hated them. He was more into the facts, not the myths.”  

 

“Yes, well,” Jessica looked down towards her feet, her eyes glazed with sympathy for both of the remaining Winchester’s. “It seems as if those myths have become his new reality. I wish we had better news for you, John.”

 

John closed his eyes and waved his hand in the air lazily to stop her. “It’s okay. You and the rest are doing the best that you can to look after him and for that, I am eternally grateful!” He turned and took the bouquet of flowers into his hand before holding it up for Jess. “Now, I believe it is time I visit my son. Could you hold these for me?”

 

Jessica smiled thoughtfully at him as she took them from him, lightly grazing her fingers across their petals. “I’ll make sure no harm comes to them, Mr. Winchester.” She turned away from him and made her way back to the receptionist desk. John watched her sit down by some files and finally returned her smile. The smile dropped as he stared down the familiar, blank hallway that he has been walking down for the past five years. He didn’t even realize that he moved until he found himself right outside his son's door.

 

Inside, Sam Winchester sat, slumped, on the edge of his bed. He eyes were glazed over as they focused on his shoes. He said no word and made no attempt of movement - just lost in his fantasies.

 

Quietly, John opened the door, trying his best not to spook Sam. He closed the door behind him and stood awkwardly in front of it. He was never really sure what to do during these visits. Sam would never talk back to him unless it was about something he had supposedly done in his son’s fantasy. The last time he had visited, it didn’t end very well. He had walked through the door and as soon as Sam had seen him he had started yelling about him not being there for his sons.

 

He could remember the day quite clearly - it was like a nice, big punch to the stomach. Sam had screamed things - things no parent would want to hear.

 

“Where are you?” he had grounded out, his hands turning into fists. “Why won’t you help us? Dean is _dying_ ! Your _son_ is dying!” He was screaming at this point, advancing towards a frightened John. He stood frozen at his spot as assistants rushed in due to the noise, trying their best to hold Sam back. They sent John away and he sat in the waiting room down the hall, his face being held in his hands as he thought about his son’s words - ringing in his head, implanting themselves into his brain. He knew Sam was talking about his made-up world, but whatever was happening there had held bits of reality. Of Dean dying. Of John not being there. Of him failing both his son’s. He got back home that day and wept.

 

Now, looking down at the still form of his only remaining family, John didn’t want to let him down again.

 

Pulling up a chair, John sat down and took a deep breath, trying to think of what he could possibly say to his damaged son. “Uh, hey Sammy,” he nervously rubbed his palms on his pant legs, looking everywhere but at his son. “It’s been awhile, huh?” He mentally scolded himself. He’s acting as if the man in front of him was a complete stranger. He sat up.

 

“Sam. It’s me. John Winchester. Your father.” No reply. John sighed and looked towards the door, thinking over the words needed to be said. “Son, if you can hear me, I just wanna say sorry. I have no right to say that to you but I truly am sorry.I failed you. Both of you.” He looked down at his feet, tears forming in the corner of his eyes. “I made Dean break his promise to you. I wasn’t fast enough. I left him. I heard him yell. I heard the gunshot. It’s all my fault that you lost your brother.” He sniffed and rubbed at his eyes, looking back up to stare at Sam’s tense shoulders.

 

A soft bark of laughter bubbled in his throat as he thought of himself, as he thought of how he ruined his entire family. “Sammy,” he paused, his light laugh turning into a plea. “Please, Sammy! Say something! Anything!” He made his in front of Sam getting down on his knees and taking his son’s face into his rough, calloused hands. Sam’s face remained stoic, his eyes still glazed over. “Sam, I just want you to talk to me. You can yell, scream - I don’t care! Just please.” He let out a sob, finally letting his tears trail down his face. No matter how hard he pleaded, Sam said nothing.

 

He hung his head in defeat, letting his forehead rest on his son’s - just for a moment. He let out a broken sigh and stood, making his way to the door. With one last look at Sam, he opened the door and began to make his way out - until he was stopped by a soft voice.

 

“He’s the one that broke his promise, Dad.”

 

John, his jaw hung wide open, looked at his son in amazement.

 

“He’s the one that promised me he would be careful,” Sam turned towards his father, his eyes dulled with emotion as he admitted the truth for the first time in years. “He’s the one that left your side. He’s the one that left.” The man turned back to his wall. “I’m sorry Dad.”

 

And then he was silent once more, his mind being drawn back to his world of fantasy.

 

John had no words. He closed his eyes as one last tear slid down his cheek. “Don’t you ever say sorry to me, son,” his voice was weak and broken, but he could only hope that Sam could still hear it. “None of this is either of you boy’s fault. None of it.” He left.  Silently shutting the door behind him, he made his way to the receptionist desk and politely thanked Jessica for holding the flowers and he left. Hopping into his Impala he drove to the graveyard and found Dean’s grave.

 

Placing the flowers on the grave, he began to talk.

 

He talked about lots of things. He talked about the shop, the cars. About new movies and shows coming out on television. It seemed he couldn’t stop talking about the advancement in technology over the years - how they now have computers almost everywhere. And then he was talking about Sam.

 

“Your brother,” he heaved a great sigh and watched as geese swam in the nearby pond. “He’s not getting better, Dean. I mean, he’s not getting worse, but still not better.” He hung his head. “The doctors don’t think he’ll ever come back from this. His denial is so deep. He misses his big brother.”

 

Lightly, he traced his hand over the smooth marble of the gravestone. He admired it and the beauty it showed. He looked over at the grave of his wife, knowing that six-feet under, the casket was empty - the body that was supposed to be there burnt to ashes in the house fire that had changed both his and his son’s lives. He sighed and turned his eyes towards the sky, a single bird flying high above.

 

_“If only promises couldn't be broken.”_


End file.
